A Break in the Leaves

It's the way the light slices down on the porch
In the morning and grows slowly dull
As the earth tries to roll away from it.

It's the droning thud of the smaller rain drops
First announcing and the increasing menace
As the clouds release their cargo.

It's the steadfastness of the dead bird
In the driveway until suddenly there
Are only a few bones and feathers.

It's the single, solitary, lonely gray hair
Who arrives like a vanguard heralding
The arrival of time, age, change.